If you are a good parent you love your children, and would even give your life for them if necessary! Children are wonderful assets to any marriage if you take the time and raise them in the right way. At least, that is what I was told many, many times by my parents. I listened because I thought that I had the best parents in the whole world and I believed them. All five of my brothers, my sister, and myself seem to have turned out okay.

Well! Let me tell you that this doesn't hold true in today's world! When I look around and see the news about all the kids that have committed crimes it sickens me. We never thought about killing someone just for the thrill. We would never steal something from a store. The shop owners in our neighborhood were poor just like us, and we knew it. Why hurt someone just because you think it would be fun to see if you could get away with it? It doesn't make a whole lot of sense to be so stupid just for "fun".

Everybody I knew while growing up in East Los Angeles, California were hard working family people. We were friends with them all. We had blacks, whites, Hispanic, oriental, and any other color you can think of living in our neighborhood. The kids played together, and had a lot of fun I might add, while our parents sat on each other's porches visiting. We shared food that we grew in our backyards. We taught each other how to do things like canning veggies and fruits. We also shared boquets of beautiful flowers!

When someone in our neighborhood was sick the other neighbors would make extra for their dinner and share with them. Believe me, when you have a big family and you are under the weather it is nice to see your neighbors dropping by because they cooked too much food. They would ask if you could use it so it didn't go to waste. Always kindness and courtesy prevailed in our community.

When I think of all our neighbors there I wish I could go back in time. Visit with Anna and her family that came over from Russia. Play tag with all the kids again in the front yard at dusk. Go to Suzie's house and eat a good German meal. Visit with the Woysens who lived behind us. They were from Poland. Mrs. Woysen taught me to eat raw vegetables right from the garden, washed off under the backyard faucet. Andy Woysen would let me play with his baby chicks. Mr. and Mrs. Persell across the street would let me sit on their swing and read my story books, and Susie and Mac would let me take my nap in their backyard on their swing. Suzie's father, Grandpa to me, would play his harmonica for me whenever I asked him.

I miss East L.A. like it was when I was growing up there in the 40's and 50's. The last time I was in town I asked my brother to drive me by our old house. It hurt when he said he couldn't do that because it wasn't safe. We would probably be mugged or killed. It wasn't our neighborhood anymore. It belongs now to those who seek to destroy anyone or any thing that wonders onto 'their turf'.
How sad. How very, very sad!

My husband and I tried to raise our son the good old-fashioned way. He turned out fine. We are proud of him! He loves us and we love him. But, wouldn't it have been wonderful if we could have taken him bacl in time to where we were raised and share all the wonders of a world not filled with electronic noise. Instead, a world of great high risk adventures, good, solid friendships. Where it was safe to walk the neighborhood any time of day or night. No drugs, no gangs and no hatred!

The only thing hazardous to our health and well-being was the ice cream truck. We would chase it on our bikes. When the ice cream man stopped, we would inevitably run into the back end of his Good Humor truck. Funny! He always knew it was one of the Rawlings kids that splattered on the ground.

My sincere thanks, Mary, for allowing me to use your story!